


Love Bites

by neverbirds



Category: The Book of Mormon - Ambiguous Fandom, The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Enemies to Study Frenemies to Lovers, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 17:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17146274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverbirds/pseuds/neverbirds
Summary: “I’ve never seen a vampire,” Kevin shrugs. “You’re the first one I ever met.”“Well, that explains how you’re so blasé about the whole thing.”“What whole thing?”“You know,” says Connor, gesticulating a little too wildly. It’s the whiskey mixer. Connor should never be allowed whiskey. Stupid Neeley. “Werewolf v. vampire.”“Oh,” says Kevin, with his stupid big teeth. “That.”Or; Connor McKinley sucks.





	Love Bites

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elderkevinmckinley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elderkevinmckinley/gifts).



> Happy Secret Santa to my lovely friend @ElderKevinMcKinley!! I had so much fun writing this ridiculous, nonsensical alternate universe fic that combines my two passions: the book of mormon and werewolf puns. 
> 
> I hope you like it!

Connor falls asleep at his desk. This happens a lot, but nobody really pays him any mind; it is cruel to send a Nocturnal to day school, after all, and human history sucks. Like, a lot. It’s not like he’s ever planning on meeting one. So he finds himself drifting off to Ms Kimbay’s explanation of how District One’s President Langerham outlawed inter-species relationships involving humans, perfectly content to nap instead of listen to some crap about goblins, when a perky, whiny voice Connor doesn’t recognise pipes up. 

“Excuse me,” says the voice. “Um, I think you might be wrong?” 

Ms Kimbay blinks. Connor looks over to where the voice came from and immediately wishes he didn’t. Good God. 

“Go on,” says Ms Kimbay, with a vaguely encouraging smile. She does not seem affected by how  _ hnnng  _ this kid is, but he supposes he is seventeen years old and also he sort of wants to keep him all to himself. He’s perfect. Connor thinks he might cry. “Which part?”

“Most of it?” says the kid, wincing. He has this little floppy curl of hair he keeps pushing back. Huge golden-brown eyes. Big, stupid teeth. “Uh, well. You said that the President hated goblins because of a ‘political dispute’? That’s not true. There was this guy called Gerold and he had an affair with the First Lady. And then when they got found out, he stole a bunch of money and went into hiding in the spaces between Four and Five. That’s what they think, anyway.” 

Connor stares at him. So does everybody else. 

“That’s an interesting theory,” says Ms Kimbay. Someone laughs, quietly to themselves. The kid looks so --  _ ugh _ . Just so ugh. “Where did you hear that?” 

“Oh,” says the kid, and shrugs. “That’s just what we’re told. Where I’m from.” 

Church said at lunch that there was a new kid. He said, and Connor quotes, “there’s a new prom king in town.” Connor thought nothing of it because he was too busy arguing with Sadaka because her Boy Of The Week is Jason Essex and he’s a jerk. Michaels said he probably transferred from North Nine. Connor didn’t know that they taught  _ gibberish  _ at North Nine. 

“History is often passed down by word of mouth,” says Ms Kimbay. “It’s important to remember that not everything you hear is factually accurate.” 

“But it is factually accurate? That’s when interspecies relationships with a human were outlawed in District One.” 

Connor’s ears perk up at that. What a weirdo. A beautiful, mouth-watering weirdo. 

“Well,” says Ms Kimbay. “I guess who can say what is and isn’t true. Written texts are often the most accurate, and according to the Treaty of 1801 interspecies relationships with humans were outlawed due to pregnancy complications that often ended with the death of the mother.” 

Connor gets Michaels to get Asmeret to get Church to pass the new kid a note for him. He watches the new kid open it with nervous eyes, glancing around to figure out who it’s from. 

_ Do you have a deathwish?  _

It isn’t until he sees the boy’s eyes widen a little bit that he realises just how threatening that sounded. 

“Miss,” Connor says. “I got stuck on the second essay question. Can we go through it again?” 

Miss Kimbay looks relieved. The new kid looks -- well, he’s looking at Connor, frowning a little, like he’s never done it before and is just trying it out. 

He passes a note to Church to pass to Asmeret to get Michaels to give it to Connor. 

_ Sort of,  _ says the note. Connor frowns at it, turning it over and back again, trying to decipher whatever the hell that means. His handwriting is truly awful, it seems. All scratchy capital letters. 

Connor glances over at the new kid, who is currently scrawling in his textbook, highlighting and crossing things out with his tongue poking over his underbite.  _ Hm,  _ thinks Connor. If his heart wasn’t cold and dead and useless, it would probably beat a mile a minute just looking at him. His eyes glint gold in the sun. Connor is going to burst into tears at any moment. 

_ Well, _ he says to himself.  _ And you thought senior year would be boring.  _

***

“Oh, good,” says Connor, sliding up to Kevin in the hallway. “Our lockers are right next to each other. I’ve never been happier.” 

“Hi! I’m Kevin,” he says, and he smiles this stupid, big toothy smile with his stupid big teeth. “I’m new.” 

Kevin blinks these beautiful, golden-brown eyes that are so big and  _ so  _ nice to be looked at with. 

“No shit,” says Connor. “You’re already making quite a reputation for yourself.” 

“Am I?” 

“Yeah,” says Connor. “Weird hot werewolf. You’re the talk of the town.” 

“What gave it away?” Kevin says, forlornly. “Was it the teeth? It’s always the teeth.” 

“Of course it’s your teeth. Obviously,” says Connor. “Also you  _ reek  _ like a dog.” 

“You’re a vampire,” says Kevin. 

Connor bares his teeth. They’re sharp and pointy and small, delicate little things that can slice skin open without even trying. The  _ amount  _ that Connor bites his own tongue, but it doesn’t matter because he has nicer teeth than Kevin and that’s just something he’s going to have to take solace in. Doesn’t matter how you look at it, he really is unbelievably good looking, and Connor sort of hates him for it. 

“Yeah? What gave it away? The pale skin? Bitchy demeanour? The fact that it’s cruel to make a Nocturnal go to day school and I look ridiculously tired? You can blame my mother for that one.” 

“If you’re a vampire,” says Kevin, low and hushed. “How do you know you look tired?” 

Connor opens his mouth one, two times and doesn’t understand why he’s still talking to the weirdo. Beautiful, handsome, mouth-wateringly good looking weirdo. 

“Shut up,” he tells him. He doesn’t know yet that’s going to become his new catchphrase. “ _ Kevin.”  _

“So you hate me,” says Kevin. “Just like that.”

“Well, you’re a werewolf, aren’t you?” 

“I’ve never met a vampire before, you know,” says Kevin. “I always assumed that you guys can’t be that bad.” 

“Well,” says Connor. “I guess I’m here to prove you wrong.”

“Or prove traditions right,” says Kevin. “And traditions are stupid.” 

Connor wishes those big, beautiful golden eyes would look at anything other than him. The bell, having decided to take pity on Connor, rings loud and clear into the too-bright hallway. 

“I’m leaving,” says Connor, and Kevin’s jaw twitches, just a little bit. 

He walks away trying  _ really really  _ hard not to look back. He mostly succeeds, all the way up until the end of the hallway where he turns, just briefly, to see that Kevin is talking to Nabulungi Hatimbi and Arnold Cunningham. Fucking pack creatures. Fucking  _ werewolves _ .

***

“Isn’t he dreamy,” says Sadaka, floating down with her chin on her hands. “He’s yummy to look at.” 

“He can hear you, you know,” Michaels points out. Connor already knew that, because he’s been watching Kevin out the corner of his eye this whole time. “Stop being creepy.”

“Fine,” says Sadaka, sticking her tongue out in retaliation. “Did you prepare for the quiz?” 

“What quiz?” 

“Connor,” says Sadaka. “The District One Werewolf Trial of 1903!” 

“Oh, that,” says Connor. “What’s it gonna be, list ten reasons people hate werewolves? Have you ever met my father?” 

“That would probably be Count Harold vs Mr. Heartford, 1946.” 

Connor shrugs. 

“It’s all the same,” he says. “Werewolves are scary, the end.” 

“Cunningham isn’t scary,” Asmeret points out. “Hatimbi is a little. But like, because she’s so  _ nice _ .” 

“I’m not saying it’s right,” says Connor. “I’m just saying that’s why people hate werewolves.” 

He has one eye trained on Kevin’s back. He’s tense and awkward. Hatimbi is glaring at him, and Cunningham has tomato ketchup all down his shirt. 

“Anyway,” says Connor. “Neeley is having a party on Saturday. Have you losers been invited?” 

“Well, we have,” says Michaels, pointing at Church. “You guys are coming though, right?” 

“Sure,” says Connor, shrugging. “Neeley hates me, though.”

“Neeley hates everyone.” 

“True,” says Connor, and slurps the last of his bloodshake because he knows it’ll annoy the werewolves. He chews the straw. “Is Steve gonna be there?”

“Probably,” says Asmeret, patting his shoulder absently. “Suck it up.” 

“ _ Awful choice of words!”  _ Connor exclaims, and Sadaka starts laughing uncontrollably. “I hate all of you.”

“I’m gonna invite the new kid,” Asmeret says. “He’s so handsome I might cry.”

Connor knows the feeling. Hatimbi’s shoulders are shaking in the corner on his eye. 

“Sure,” says Connor. “What’s the worst that could happen?” 

***

Neeley’s party sort of sucks. 

Well, everybody else seems to be having a good time. Connor, however, is absolutely not. He immediately lost Sadaka when they walked in, in favour of her following her Boy Of The Week Hashaan around, Church didn’t come because he’s not great at the whole staying-in-doors thing, and Michaels and Asmeret are doing shots in the kitchen, but Connor can’t do shots and anyway it was crowded in there and Connor hates crowds. So, instead, he’s elected to stand to the side like a loser and wait until it’s socially acceptable to leave. It’s either that or hang out with Davis. 

“You’re such a stereotype,” says a familiar-unfamiliar voice. “Standing in the corner, shrouded in darkness, wearing a stupid outfit and watching everyone like a creep.” 

“I know,” says Connor, turning to look into those  _ eyes _ ohmygod. “I just sort of roll with it.” 

Kevin grins, all shiny big teeth and dimples. 

“Well, you’re doing a very good job of it,” says Kevin. 

“Not menacing enough, apparently,” says Connor. “What are you talking to me for?” 

“I don’t know anybody else,” says Kevin. He’s not holding a drink or anything, just fidgets with his hands. “Talking to you seemed better than being the awkward new kid hanging out by himself. People keep staring at me.” 

“People keep staring at you because of -- you know. Not because you’re a loser.” 

“What?” 

Connor waves his hand like he’s batting off smoke. It’s very loud in here, but he assumes that Kevin has absolutely no problem hearing him. He’s speaking very quietly, which Connor does not appreciate because Connor doesn’t have Super Senses or whatever and it’s annoying when people forget that. 

“Everybody loves a new kid,” Connor shrugs. 

“You don’t,” Kevin rightfully points out. 

“I’m a contrarian,” says Connor, as somebody brushes up too close and almost knocks his drink over. Connor does not want to be responsible for cleaning blood off Neeley’s mom’s carpet, thank you very much. He chews on his straw and takes the longest sip imaginable. Kevin looks like he might gag. “What, have you never seen a vampire drink before or something?” 

“I’ve never seen a vampire,” Kevin shrugs. “You’re the first one I ever met.” 

“Well, that explains how you’re so blasé about the whole thing.”

“What whole thing?”

“You know,” says Connor, gesticulating a little too wildly. It’s the whiskey mixer. Connor should never be allowed whiskey. Stupid Neeley. “Werewolf v. vampire.” 

“Oh,” says Kevin. “That.” 

“Yeah,” says Connor, wishing he was physically capable of looking away from Kevin right now. He’s so deliciously handsome that it makes his face both wonderful and irritating to look at. “Traditions, and all that.” 

“So you hate me,” says Kevin, all tense shoulders and glinting gold eyes. “Because of some dumb tradition that says we have to.”

“No, I hate you because you’re really annoying,” says Connor, and wrinkles his nose. “You know, you’ve been hanging out with the coolest kids in school. People are gonna talk if they see you casually talking to the weird gay vampire loser.” 

“Is that how you see yourself?” 

Connor scowls. 

“I don’t really care about any of that stuff,” says Kevin. “I just like nice people. There aren’t enough nice people.”

“Enough reason to hate me, too, I guess,” says Connor. “I’ve never been very nice.” 

“So this is like, an all the time thing?” says Kevin, gesturing up and down the length of Connor’s body. Connor scowls even harder. “That’s a relief.” 

“You’re so weird,” Connor tells him. 

Kevin frowns at him again, like he’s just discovered it and is still figuring it out. Connor is delighted he’s elicited this reaction from Kevin a whole two times. Somebody else bumps into Connor and, instinctively, he bares his fangs. 

“Oh,” says the bumper in question, and Connor would pale if he could physically get any paler. “I didn’t know you’d be here.” 

“Well, here I am,” says Connor, momentarily forgetting Kevin is also there, which is a blessing in disguise, he supposes. “I have as much right to be here as you do.” 

“It’s not like we can’t exist in the same place,” says Steve, who Connor absolutely 100% would be totally fine with never seeing again ever. “You can’t keep walking out of every room I’m in, you know.” 

“Do you see me walking?” says Connor. “Because I’m not walking. I’m having a delightful conversation. Which you are interrupting. Very rudely.” 

“Hi!” says Kevin, and holds out his hand, what the fuck. “I’m Kevin!” 

Steve looks at Kevin like he’s horrified by his very existence. He looks like how Connor feels, without any of the confusing _ ohgodohgod he’s so handsome what do I do _ stuff. Connor doesn’t particularly like this turn of events. Kevin is his to hate. 

“Steve,” he says. “You’re a werewolf.”

“Yep,” says Kevin, hastily withdrawing his hand when he realises it’s not welcome. “So are you. Right?”

“Right,” says Connor, and puts on his best glare and everything. 

“And Connor is just? Hanging out with you?”

“Yes?” says Kevin, and looks to a very unhelpful Connor who sort of shrugs in response. “If this counts as hanging out. I’m not sure.” 

“Okay,” says Steve, very slowly, like Kevin is stupid. Connor is pretty certain Kevin isn’t stupid. He’s just an idiot. There’s a difference. Steve turns back to Connor with what would be a unreadable expression if they hadn’t been secret best friends for like, twelve years, and Connor can read the  _ what the fuck _ in his eyebrows. “Weird.” 

Connor can physically see the cogs turning in Steve’s head. Those cogs are probably very focused on what Kevin looks like -- well, Kevin looks like Kevin, doesn’t he? Connor doesn’t know anybody comparable in the looks department. They’re all mutants or goblins or centaurs, and even the more humanoid creatures aren’t usually his type, per say. They’re gross teenagers. Kevin looks like he might have skipped a couple of years specifically so he could parade around senior year without any baby fat whatsoever. He doesn’t even have bad  _ skin _ . Connor thinks it’s awfully inconsiderate, but Steve probably thinks that Connor thinks something else entirely. He does have a reputation and that reputation would probably lead to a lot of mistaken assumptions about why exactly Connor McKinley, known vocal admirer of good looking boys and the centerpiece of a particularly hilarious scandal, is hanging out at a party with the cutest boy in school. 

“He’s new,” says Connor. “Be nice.” 

Steve laughs. His eyes are doing the glowy thing only it’s kind of creepy when Steve does it. Connor looks directly, resolutely into them, and sneers. 

“Oh, I’m sure he’s enjoying how nice you are,” says Steve, brightly. “That’s your thing, right?” 

“Fuck you,” says Connor, at the same time Kevin says “he’s actually not been very nice at all.” 

Screw Steve, the big jerk. The big, heart-trampling jerk. Screw Kevin, too, while he’s at it. 

Connor hits Kevin on the arm. He hit a  _ werewolf _ on the arm. Kevin’s eyes spark. Connor flashes a fang. Steve coughs, Connor glares, Kevin looks lost and confused. 

“I’d really appreciate it if you left now,” says Connor. “Like, far away. Far, far away from me. Forever, preferably.” 

Connor thinks he can hear Kevin laugh, somewhere, but only if you were listening for it which apparently Connor was without even knowing it. A warm hand brushes his forearm. He knows Steve heard him, because he tenses and glares at Connor even harder. 

“Nice to meet you,” says Steve. “See you around, McKinley.” 

“Whatever,” says Connor, and turns to Kevin with a grimace in favour of watching Steve walk away. “Sorry about that. Where were we?” 

Connor doesn’t enjoy the way Kevin is looking at him at all, which is weird because it makes his insides feel hot despite the fact that Connor has been perpetually cold since birth. Comes with the territory. Chronically clammy. 

“You really don’t like werewolves, do you?”

“Eh,” says Connor, with an apologetic shrug. “I just really hate Steve.” 

“No kidding,” says Kevin. “He doesn’t seem very nice at all.” 

“Of course he’s not,” says Connor. “He’s Steve.” 

Kevin hums, a little growly thing to himself. It’s quiet but Connor can feel it in his bones. Oh, god, he’s had more than enough whiskey for tonight.

“What are we even celebrating, anyway?” says Kevin. 

“You don’t need a reason to have a party,” Connor says, turning to address Kevin. “Have you never heard of the concept of fun?”

“I guess not,” he says, and that’s not the answer Connor expected at all. 

“Hey,” says Connor, because he’s suddenly overwhelmed with curiosity over where this ridiculously annoying, ridiculously good looking werewolf came from. “So I guess North doesn’t have many party animals.” 

“I wouldn’t know,” Kevin shrugs. “Never been there.” 

Connor eyes him up, both of them leant against the wall. Why Kevin chose him to come over and bother shall probably always remain a mystery. 

“Where’s Cunningham and Hatimbi?”

“What?” says Kevin, blinking in succession. It’s dark in here, but Connor is uncomfortably aware of how Kevin can probably see him better with the lights on low than Sadaka would up close in the broad daylight. Connor wouldn’t be caught dead in broad daylight, unless, of course, he  _ actually _ died in the broad daylight. Connor can see in the dark just fine, but Kevin’s golden eyes are fucking glowing, holy shit, something burning and simmering in them. “Oh, they didn’t want to come. I tried to make them, but apparently they don’t like Neeley.”

“Nobody likes Neeley,” Connor tells him, because he’s new and doesn’t know these things yet. “He’s got goblin blood.” 

“What’s wrong with goblins?”

“Oh, wow,” says Connor. “You really are a love-everybody-despite-your-differences person, aren’t you?” 

“No need to be so rude,” says Kevin.

He can feels Kevin’s eyes on his cheek, like their burning glow is actually making his face hot. Connor never feels hot, or even lukewarm. It’s a weirdly exhilarating sensation. Probably the whiskey, he consoles himself. Nothing to do with that jawline you could slice bread on. At all. Nothing will ever be about that jawline. 

“Did you know have a very hateable face?” 

“Thank you,” says Kevin. “For that. My ego really appreciates it.” 

“You’re welcome,” says Connor. “I’ve got more, if you’ve got time.”

“Oh, would you look at that,” says Kevin, checking his metaphorical watch. “I’ve got somewhere to be.” 

“Where?” says Connor, wishing that this wasn’t the most fun he’s had all night. “I wasn’t aware you were in such high demand, considering you’re stood awkwardly by a wall with your mortal enemy at a party full of attractive, single people.” 

“What?” says Kevin. “Oh, I don’t really care about that.” 

Connor eyes him, carefully. Of course he doesn't. Kevin is so devastatingly good looking, hooking up at parties is probably boring to him. He must have people following him wherever he goes. 

“Also,” says Kevin. There are a lot of people around, making lots of noise, music thud thudding through the floor. “Mortal enemy? Aren’t you immortal?”

“Were you actually raised by wolves? I can die just as easily as you can. I just won’t get diseased or get cancer or whatever.”

“So you’ll only die by unnatural causes?”

“Yes?” says Connor. “Did you actually think I would just live forever? Insta-heal away from certain death?” 

“Sort of,” says Kevin. “You give off the impression that you’re not scared of anything.” 

That’s -- that’s a weirdly nice thing to say. Connor hides whatever his expression is, because he’s not quite sure -- which is twelve different kinds of frustrating -- by downing the rest of his drink. 

“ _ You _ give off the impression you’re scared of everything,” says Connor. 

“That’s because I am,” says Kevin, watching the crowd distractedly. 

Connor takes this as an opportunity to stare at him. The perfect, floppy curl. The eyes. Those cheekbones. The underbite, the way he’s worrying his top lip with his fangs, how even his  _ ears _ are perfectly in proportion. It’s entirely unfair that somebody could look like that at all, never mind Kevin, who doesn’t seem to appreciate the blessed gift of good looks he was given at birth. 

“Are you scared of me?” 

The whiskey! Connor should never drink whiskey ever again. 

“Sort of,” says Kevin, and Connor didn’t really know what answer he expected in the first place. “But you’re way too honest to worry about it.” 

Connor stares at him even more. Kevin catches on, after a few moments, and drags his gaze back to Connor. 

“What? Why are you staring at me like that?”

Connor imagines he sort of does look like a fish, opening and closing his mouth stupidly. Words have escaped him. 

“Uhh,” he manages to get out. It’s sort of hard, because when Kevin looks at him it’s like he’s the only thing in the universe and the screaming shouts of the party are just background noise. Connor has never been looked at like that before. It irritates him, and he’s not sure why, but he’s chalking it up to Kevin Price being a thorn in his side. “That’s. Not true?” 

The corners of Kevin’s lips twitch upwards, and ohmygod Connor was  _ not  _ staring at his mouth. 

“You’ve put how you feel about me pretty plainly,” says Kevin, even though that’s a big fat lie because Connor doesn’t know how he feels about Kevin at all, other than ‘him being around me makes me mean and I’m not entirely sure why’. Probably the puppy eyes, the nervous demeanour, the go-getting enthusiasm, how unfailingly polite he is. “I’ve never been to a party before. What are we supposed to do?”

“Drink,” says Connor, and offers a sip. Kevin flinches away like Connor has offended him. “Dance a little, I guess. Talk a lot. Make out with people you shouldn’t want to make out with.” 

“I’ve never done any of those things,” says Kevin. “I should probably go do those things. Right?”

“What are you looking at me for?” says Connor. “It’s your life.” 

Kevin looks at him with an unreadable expression, then pats one warm hand on Connor’s arm. The heat soaks through his hoodie, probably enough to leave a mark. Kevin doesn’t move his hand. Kevin doesn’t know these things yet. Somehow, Connor doesn’t move, either. 

“I guess it is,” says Kevin. “I just don’t know what to do with it.”

“Meet people,” says Connor. “Make friends. Enjoy this party. Worry about tomorrow later.” 

“Okay,” says Kevin, looking for all the world like he’s psyching himself up to jump out of a moving train. “Well, I’m not making friends or enjoying this party right now.” 

Connor pushes him, and Kevin removes his hand, like he’d forgotten it was there. Connor’s arm itches where the heat remains. He feels awfully lopsided. 

“Go,” he says. “Leave me alone. I’m sick of looking at you.” 

“Uhuh,” says Kevin, because he’s a jerk who is probably perfectly aware of his face and how nobody could get sick of looking at it. They should hang it up in an art museum. You would pay to see that face. It’s just -- the rest of it. The rest of him. Ugh. “Have fun in your dark corner, you creep.” 

Connor absolutely does not watch him walk away. Not even a little bit. 

*** 

All of Connor’s friends suck. He just can’t be bothered to find new ones. 

“Go sit with your weird little werewolf pack,” says Connor, glaring at Kevin from across the table. Kevin glares back. “Don’t usurp my friends.” 

“They invited me!” 

Connor looks around at their guilty faces. Every last one of them. 

“You are all traitors,” he says. “Kevin is my sworn enemy.”

“He’s everywhere,” says Kevin. “Everywhere!” 

“Ah, yes,” says Church, nodding, eyes closed in thought. “I can see it in the stars. Two enemies, forever intertwined throughout history, unable to live without the other.” 

“...What?”

“Ignore him,” says Sadaka. She waves her hand and it goes through Kevin’s cheek. He jumps, and touches his face, curiously. “He does this.”

“Also,” says Church, exactly as sagely as before. “Your lockers are next to each other.” 

Connor throws a screwed up napkin at him. He swears, Kevin catches it before it even left Connor’s hand. Fucking werewolves. 

“Whoa,” says Michaels, with little stars in his eyes. “Your reactions are next level. You should come to practice on Friday.” 

“Oh, don’t,” says Connor, around the straw he’s decimating with his fangs. “You can’t invite him everywhere. Can’t I just miserably watch you guys from the bleachers in peace?” 

“No,” says Asmeret, and pats him on the back. “And you’re never miserable at practice because there’s always hot guys for you to ogle.” 

“Okay, first of all,” says Connor. “I do not  _ ogle _ . I appreciate. I rank boys, in order of hotness, with an impassive eye. That’s not ogling.” 

“That’s kind of shallow,” says Kevin, with that stupid little frown again. Church pats Kevin on the back while Asmeret starts sniggering. 

“That’s because it is,” says Sadaka. “One time he almost shed his skin because Mr Kauffman lent him a pen.” 

“I was thirteen!” 

“Can vampires shed their skin?” says Kevin, turning to look at him with the most hilarious horrified look on his face. “Oh my god, dude, that’s so gross.” 

“No. Jesus, were you actually raised by wolves?” 

Kevin grins, menacingly, jutting his jaw out. Connor smiles back. 

“What is going on,” says Michaels. “Connor, stop being weird.”

“He’s the one being weird --” 

Sadaka sticks her hand through his head. It always shuts him up. Today is no exception. 

“Anyway,” says Michaels. “There’s practice after school this Friday. You should come.” 

“Sure,” says Kevin, around a mouthful of corned beef. “What are you practicing for?” 

Michaels blinks. Sadaka forgets herself, momentarily floating up before Connor points out that she’s halfway up towards the ceiling. 

“For games?” says Michaels. 

“Oh, right,” says Kevin, and this is another piece of evidence Connor has collected into his Kevin-is-an-alien theory. He keeps nodding along, but Connor can see the way his jaw twitches on the right hand side and the small flash of gold, and knows that Kevin has no idea what they’re talking about. “Sure, I can come along.” 

“It’s sort of where we hang out, anyway,” Sadaka tells Kevin. “Most of our parents don’t like each other so we hang out here.” 

“What? Why?” 

“Well,” says Connor. “Church’s parents hate Michaels and Asmeret for being witches, because centaurs are all about the earth and the stars and shit and magic is messing with it. Or something. I don’t really get how magic works.” 

“Magic is in everything,” says Church. “You shouldn’t mess with it. Fucks up the balance of things. That’s what mom says, anyway.” 

“Witches hate centaurs for being stuffy gits,” Connor says, waving a hand between the three of them. “Nobody’s parents like Sadaka, and you would think it’s because she’s a ghost, but it’s mostly how she  _ became _ a ghost by her own magic backfiring when she was trying to put a hex on Michaels so his hair would turn into worms in my backyard when we were twelve.” 

Kevin is staring at him. Connor tries very hard not to be bothered by Kevin staring at him, and even longer convincing himself that he doesn’t need to try hard because he isn’t bothered. Connor feels uncomfortable every time they make eye contact, and it’s a little confusing. 

“And my parents,” says Connor, with his grimest smile. “And my parents just hate everybody.” 

“Huh,” says Kevin. “Do you think they’ll like me?” 

Connor hears the question for what it is. 

“You look like butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth, so I think you’ll be just fine.” 

Kevin looks at him in that way, with the twitch on the right hand side of his jaw, and nods. 

“Except Connor’s parents,” says Asmeret. “You should avoid the McKinleys.” 

Connor pulls the most disdainful, apologetic expression he can muster. 

“Got a thing against werewolves,” he says. “And they aren’t going to be changing their mind anytime soon.” 

“Why?”

“Because a werewolf turned Connor gay!” says Sadaka, sounding absolutely delighted to say those particular words in that particular order. “I don’t know what was worse, that it was a werewolf or that it was a boy.” 

Connor can feel Kevin watching him. He wonders if everybody else feels how awkward it is when Kevin stares at him like that. He really, really hopes not. 

“It was quite the scandal,” says Connor. “It was in the news.” 

“He’s not even lying,” says Church. “I have an article printed out in my locker.” 

“District Nine’s infamous inter-district ambassadors! Known for their traditional vampiric views, aka, we hate werewolves because we say so, and then their only son goes and gets caught red handed attempting to give a werewolf a blowjob in his car.” 

Connor wouldn’t even know how to begin deciphering the look on Kevin’s face. 

“They’re inter-district ambassadors?”

“I’m -- what?” Connor blinks. “Oh, come on Kevin, that’s my one good story. That’s what you take away from it?” 

He can hear Asmeret laughing, and can see Sadaka’s elbow go right through her side. 

“Sorry,” says Kevin, shaking his head. “Should I be congratulating you on your  _ attempted  _ blowjob?” 

Connor laments the fact he has no more napkins to throw. 

***

“Good god,” says Connor, with a huff, sliding into the seat next to Kevin. “Must you be everywhere I am?” 

“Michaels asked me to come, remember?” says Kevin. “He wanted me to join the team.”

“What did you say?”

It’s so cold. Unseasonably cold. Connor can practically see steam rise up off Kevin’s bare arms. Fucking werewolves, the walking, talking heaters. He catches himself accidentally leaning into Kevin’s space, and retreats as quickly as physically possible. Kevin notices, and wrinkles his nose at him. 

“It doesn’t really matter,” says Kevin, looking at him in an increasingly uncomfortable fashion the longer Connor keeps his eyebrows raised expectantly. “I wouldn’t know what to do.” 

“No football where you’re from?” 

Kevin huffs, little puffs of steam escaping his mouth. 

“No football where I’m from,” says Kevin. “So I’m watching, to see if I can figure it out.” 

“Huh,” says Connor, puts his feet up on the seat in front of him, knees bent, and hugs his legs. It’s so cold. “It’s boring, right?”

“Ohmygod so boring,” Kevin laments, emphatically. He copies Connor, and curls into himself with his feet resting on the hard plastic chair. Connor tries not to stare at how ragged Kevin’s shoes are. The sole is coming off and the laces are all chewed up. They look filthy, like maybe they were white once upon a time. “Maybe it’s more fun if you’re playing. But there seems to be a lot of hanging around doing nothing.” 

“There are other sports,” Connor shrugs. “Dogs love swimming, maybe you could try that.” 

“I can’t,” says Kevin. “Marley won’t leave me alone every time I head over to the pool.” 

“So?” says Connor. “She’s pretty.” 

“She’s a mermaid,” says Kevin. “We would have weird wolf-fish babies. I don’t know if I want to commit to a lifetime of semi-aquatic snarly children.” 

Connor is absolutely delighted that Kevin just referred to werewolves on the whole as snarly. 

“Honestly, it makes me uncomfortable,” says Kevin. “There are all these girls who won’t leave me alone.”

“Such a hardship,” says Connor, rubbing his freezing fingers together. Kevin has started watching Connor instead of the pitch. Connor knows the feeling, because he’s watching Kevin, too. “Most creatures would kill to be you, you know.” 

Kevin looks a little bit like he’s about to be sick. Connor wishes he could figure out why, but he doesn’t  _ actually  _ have a deathwish, so he changes track. 

“A lot of werewolves play basketball?” 

“I don’t think I like sports very much,” says Kevin, because he is a  _ pod _ _ person _ . “I don’t like fighting.” 

“Really?” says Connor. “We’re pretty good at it.”

“That’s not what I mean,” says Kevin. “Trying to prove who’s better than who. But by better they just mean stronger, right?” 

“You sound like you’re worried about being benched or something,” says Connor. “I saw you bend metal the other day. You can kick a ball.” 

“Oh, no, it’s not that at all,” says Kevin. “The thing is. I’m like, really strong, even for a werewolf?” 

“You’re so full of yourself,” says Connor, even though he had, in fact, figured that out for himself. He’s unnervingly strong. Ugh, those arms. “So you’re the top of the food chain.”

“Sort of,” says Kevin. “I think I’m just starting to get that.”

Kevin is so weird. Half the things he says don’t make sense, and the other half set Connor’s fangs on edge. 

“You’re so weird,” says Connor. “I don’t get you at all.” 

“I didn’t ask you to,” says Kevin. His eyes are missing all of that gold, leaving just a warm brown behind. Connor hates the way they look at him so much. “I don’t get you, either.”

“There’s not really a lot to get,” says Connor. He’s started to vibrate with how cold he is, fingers shaking as he clutches them around his knees. “I’m pretty boring. It’s my fatal flaw - Connor McKinley, the dullest creature alive.” 

“I don’t think that’s true at all,” says Kevin. 

The moon is starting to appear in the sky; the light streams down onto the pitch, illuminating the flashy eyes of werewolves as Neeley gets tackled. Kevin and Connor are sat under the artificial stadium lights, and even Kevin doesn’t look his best under them. Everything looks sort of yellow and blue at the same time. He shudders to think what he looks like. Probably very unfortunate. 

Connors fangs start to chatter. 

“You’re cold,” says Kevin, frowning in that surprised way he does. 

“Yup,” says Connor. “That’s me. Cold in every sense of the word.”

Kevin snorts, and turns his attention back to the pitch. There’s a cheer. 

“What happened?”

“No idea,” says Connor. “Sports aren’t really my thing, either. I just come here so I don’t have to go home.”

“I think you’re here because your friends asked you to and you’re secretly nice.” 

“Lies!” Connor exclaims. He produces his human history textbook with a flourish. “I’m a secret nerd. I love doing my homework so much. In the freezing cold.” 

“I can help you with that, if you want,” says Kevin, tentatively. “I know you’ll probably say no because we don’t like each other and that seems like a weird thing to suggest but I’m actually quite weird and could really use some help catching up with Alchemy. I’m two explosions away from remedial classes.” 

Connor considers it, he really does. For a whole two, maybe even three seconds. 

“No,” he says. “Find somebody else to tutor you.” 

“Because you suck at Alchemy.”

“I do not suck at -- oh, whatever. You got me! I’m useless.” 

“Why do you keep saying stuff like that?” 

“Like what?”

“That you’re boring, and weird, and useless.” 

“Because it’s true?”

“No it’s not,” says Kevin, with an authoritative tone that sets Connor’s teeth on edge.

“Besides,” says Connor, with a glare thrown in for good measure. His face will probably get stuck that way soon. “You suck at human history.” 

“No, I don’t,” Kevin shrugs. “You’re just all wrong. It’s so stupid. Like, look at this,” says Kevin, and pulls Connor’s book straight from his hands. 

He points to a picture of General Ochen in handcuffs. 

“General Ochen isn’t in jail,” says Kevin. “I don’t know who writes this stuff, seriously. It’s like reading history for kids.” 

“Well then where is he? Since you know so damn much.” 

“He’s in Two,” Kevin shrugs, like it’s a totally normal thing to say. “The whole district is pretty much run by gangs. There’s lots of generals, he’s just one of them. It’s a bad neighbourhood.” 

“My parents won’t go further than Six,” says Connor, trying to hide how weirded out he is. He wonders if Kevin is legitimately crazy. “Sometimes Five, if it’s bad enough.” 

Kevin gives him a look. 

“Yeah, because they’re not stupid,” says Kevin. “Nobody is going to take them seriously. If they even make it back alive.”

“You’re nuts,” says Connor. “Like, utterly insane.” 

“Maybe,” says Kevin, twitching when there’s a cheer. “I wouldn’t know. I think what I’m saying is true. You think what you’re saying is true. One of us is wrong, and it isn’t me.” 

Connor snorts, and whacks his arm with the back of his hand. 

“I really hope you’re not spouting off about this around the district,” says Connor. “Even you’re not that dumb.” 

Kevin squints at him, pulls a pen out of his pocket, and starts crossing things out. Connor blows into his hands. They feel like icicles. 

“You’re easy to tell stuff to,” says Kevin, not looking at him in a very obviously deliberate fashion. “Nothing to lose, really.” 

Connor half watches the pitch, half watches Kevin. He’s sort of afraid to look away. Kevin is so weird and says so much nonsense that Connor wouldn’t be surprised if he closed and opened his eyes again and Kevin has been a figment of his imagination this whole time. Life isn’t that kind, though, because Connor has to blink eventually and Kevin is still there, scrawling in his textbook. He lets him. Kevin is, for lack of anything else, fascinatingly odd. 

“This textbook,” Kevin says, jabbing his finger at a picture of President Langerham holding his hand up at the cameras. “Is biased.” 

“Against humans?” 

“Yeah,” says Kevin. “Remember Gerold the Goblin? And President Langerham? Nobody wants to hear about how Gerold the Goblin fucked up, right? Because that makes supernatural creatures look bad. Much easier to assume that humans are just prejudiced and evil and do villainous things than admit that it’s a two-way street.” 

“Fucking hell,” says Connor. “Say that quieter next time. Oh my God, if my  _ dad  _ heard you say that.” 

“Can’t be worse than finding you mid-blowjob in a car.” 

“Ugh,” says Connor, and pokes him as hard as he can. “My dad didn’t catch me. Mr Middala caught me.” 

“You’re so lucky you live in Nine,” says Kevin, muttering mostly to himself. 

“Wait,” says Connor, his brain scrambling to keep up with his mouth. “You live in Nine.” 

Kevin looks away. Connor doesn’t. 

“If you lived in one of the higher districts, you would’ve gotten a lot worse than a news article about you. You wouldn’t think it was funny.” 

Connor narrows his eyes. 

“You talk a lot of crap, you know that?” 

“I did not know that,” says Kevin, and looks back at his with curious eyes. “As far as I’m aware I’m telling you cold, hard facts. President Langerham’s wife had a scandalous affair. Goblins are the reason interspecies relationships involving a human are outlawed. You’re annoying. All true statements.” 

Connor is going to walk off. He is. Any second now. Dramatically. 

“You should be careful what you say and who you say it to,” Connor warns him. “It’s safe here, but it’s tense, you know? It’s all political.” 

“Your parents,” says Kevin. “Nabulungi’s dad is the mayor, right? How does that work?” 

“It doesn’t,” says Connor. “They don’t exactly get along.” 

“But you’re not like them,” says Kevin. 

“I hope not,” says Connor. “They’re -- ugh. They’re ugh. You know?” 

Kevin looks like he doesn’t know. He nods, and his jaw twitches on the right hand side. 

“Sure,” says Kevin. “Politics.” 

Kevin picks up Connor’s textbook and resumes crossing things out. Connor lets him, half-watching his horrible, scrawly handwriting, half-watching Michaels do a very impressive tackle on the pitch and gives him a salute when he looks over to check Connor saw. He sinks as far down into his chair as possible, listening to the scratching of the pen, and wonders how loud it is in Kevin’s ears. 

***

Connor wakes up in the middle of the day and goes downstairs to get a drink. He can hear the TV going, which means his dad fell asleep on the couch yet again. He rolls his eyes, sleepy as anything, and goes to turn it off. 

“BREAKING NEWS!” the tv declares. Connor fumbles around for the remote, hitting mute before his dad stops snoring merrily. 

It takes him a few seconds for Connor to understand what he’s seeing. 

_ Vampire, aged 24, found dead in Willoughby Woods _ . 

God, they should warn before showing stuff like that. Connor did not need to see a vampire staked through the heart in the middle of the day on a Saturday. He’s too tired and out of it to deal with this. 

_ This is the first non naturally occurring death in the District for fifteen years _ . 

That’s almost as long as Connor has been alive. They’re safe here. This is the safest place to be. People don’t get killed here. They’re tucked away, so far away from everything -- even Eight is whole days travel -- and they’re so small. They’re not hurting anybody here. It’s simple and calm, the threat of the universe invading them always thrumming through the earth but so softly and quietly you wouldn’t even notice it. 

Not to panic, Connor thinks. This is probably a one off accident. With a stake. Through a heart. Very specifically. And it’s not even like that’s the only way to kill a vampire, either. Decapitation always does the trick, for example. That’s way easier than staking a heart. That means whoever did it learned exactly where to hit to make it effective the first time. That means whoever did this was making a statement. 

_ Premeditated... mayor called back from visit to District Eight... many are speculating that this was a politically motivated attack.  _

By a werewolf, the tv isn’t saying. His dad lets out a hearty snore, and Connor stuffs his fist in his mouth to stop himself from yelling. He’d forgotten he was there. He turns the tv off as quickly as he can, praying that somehow his parents will never see this and they won’t start a fucking civil war because somebody was drunk and playing a prank or -- or something. Emphasis on the something. 

God, he has to do something, doesn’t he? And Connor hates doing things. It’s pretty much his least favourite thing to do. But it’s not like they have any authorities here to handle this. Apart from Mayor Hatimbi, who is a werewolf, so he’s out of the picture entirely, and ambassadors like his parents. Who are vampires. And hate werewolves. And are definitely, definitely going to take this personally. 

He tiptoes back upstairs, entirely forgetting about his drink. His brain is getting away with him. This isn’t a big deal. Just a freak incident. The world is a scary place, and things like this happen, but you move on. Things like this happen all the time in the higher districts, right? That’s what Kevin says, anyway. Not that he believes a word that comes out of his mouth, or anything. But nobody ever goes there and nobody ever talks about it and he’s not even sure if District One is actually real. And Kevin is so sure about everything, speaks with an unwavering conviction and you know that it is, at least, his truth. 

Connor has never really been good for anything. He’s not strong or smart or brave or particularly funny or talented at anything, he has no super senses, he only has sharp teeth and a sharp mouth. But, as much as Kevin knows that poltergeists caused the Great Fire of District Three, Connor knows that a werewolf didn’t do this.

***

“So,” says Sadaka, when she floats down next to a murderous vampire chewing on his straw as angrily as he can. “I guess we all heard the news.”

There’s a collective wince around the table. Connor rolls his eyes. 

Kevin isn’t sat at the table today. Connor isn’t sure if he’s pleased or annoyed. 

“Is he a ghost?” says Connor, as soon as Sadaka sits down. 

“Nope,” she says. “I went to the morgue and everything. Nothing.” 

Connor deflates. He was really hoping he would be a ghost. Then they could all find out who randomly did this for whatever reason and they can stop this before it goes too far. 

“If it was a werewolf,” says Church, “this is really, really bad.” 

“No shit,” says Asmeret. 

“What do you think?” 

Connor turns to Michaels, and then addresses the rest of the table. 

“I think we should find out who really did this.” 

They all stare at him like he has two heads. He spreads his hands out, palms up, with a flourish he’s not particularly proud of. 

“Either we solve the mystery,” says Connor, emphasising with one hand. “Or we sit around and do nothing.” 

“I like the sound of doing nothing,” says Asmeret, holding a hand up. 

“Sure,” says Connor. “Only then another vampire will die, and then another, and then a werewolf will die, two werewolves will die, and it’s going to go back and forth until there’s nobody left to fight.” 

Connor watches them all give each other significant looks. He wonders what they’re saying. 

“And anyway,” says Connor. “Werewolves obviously didn’t do this, right?” 

“I mean,” says Sadaka, with a frown on her face. She keeps floating upwards when she concentrates too hard and loses focus. “Your parents think so, right?” 

“They’re set in their ways,” says Connor. “You know, like all grown up vampires are. And werewolves aren’t known for being docile creatures. We antagonise and they react.”

“I just don’t know why anybody who isn’t a werewolf would do it,” says Church. “The stars are telling me fuck all, by the way. Sorry.” 

Connor waves him off with a hand. 

“It might just be a random, one off incident,” says Connor. “Then we can all rest easy. But there’s plenty of vampires like my parents running around at the top, who are just waiting for a chance to prove that werewolves are just -- just -- vicious animals. You know? And I can’t listen to my parents argue with governors over the phone about bringing in a detective from Five any longer.” 

He’s not sure if he likes the way he has everybody’s attention right now, but it makes him a little braver. 

“Also you know,” says Connor, shrugging. “Justice and stuff.” 

“I can get on board for justice and stuff,” says Church. 

“I mean,” says Asmeret. “I wouldn’t want the wrong person to get caught.”

“Or nobody get caught at all,” says Sadaka. 

Connor puts his hand in the middle of the table. Then Michaels, Asmeret, Church, and Sadaka puts her hand through all of theirs, and then somewhat through the table. 

“For justice and stuff.”

***

“Oh, God,” says Connor. “I was avoiding you so well until now.” 

Kevin blinks at him in the mirror, stepping out of a cubicle. He looks very uncomfortable. More uncomfortable than usual. 

“I didn’t do it,” he blurts out. 

Connor turns to look at him. He looks very small for somebody so tall. Connor rests back on the sink a little bit, trying to look as relaxed as possible so he doesn’t get bitten by an anxious werewolf. 

“Either you’ve done something stupid I haven’t heard about yet,” says Connor. “Or you think that I think you murdered a vampire.” 

“Don’t you?” he says, miserably. “Everybody else does.” 

Connor pulls what must be an incredulous face. 

“You?” he says. 

“Me,” says Kevin, and hangs his head. Connor rolls his eyes. Kevin is so stupid. Or just self-obsessed. Probably both. “I have to go see the mayor and everything.” 

Connor gapes at him. The left light keeps blinking in and out. The sink is cold and hard under his palms. Kevin is looking just to the left of Connor’s ear. 

“You don’t have a reflection,” he says. 

“Kevin,” says Connor, and clicks his fingers. “Stop getting distracted. You have to go see the mayor?” 

“Oh, come on,” says Kevin. “You’re not this stupid.” 

Connor feels the cogs in his brain grinding together. Kevin is new in town. Nobody has been new in town in a long time. Like, a long time. They don’t even get visitors here. And then all of a sudden a dead vampire turns up. 

It’s okay, though, Connor tells himself. The mayor will take one look at Kevin and laugh at how ridiculously ludicrous it is to think that he could ever stab somebody through the heart. Just look at him. 

“I didn’t do it,” he stresses again. “Do you believe me?”

“Of course I do,” says Connor. “So will everybody else. Literally nobody is going to think you’re a murderer.”

Kevin whines, low in his throat. He has the decency to look embarrassed about it. 

“I’ve been eating in the bathroom for three days, McKinley,” he says. “Trust me. People think I’m a murderer.” 

“Okay,” says Connor, carefully. “You can, um. Sit with us at lunch. It’s unsanitary to eat in the bathroom. You’re not actually an animal.” 

Kevin huffs a laugh. 

“I would have thought you’d be the first to go,” says Kevin. “You hate werewolves. You hate me.”

“You said it yourself, I’m not that stupid,” says Connor. “Somebody else did this. Somebody with an agenda.” 

“What?” says Kevin. Connor smiles at him, a little, just to placate him. Clearly Kevin hadn’t gotten much further past it-wasn’t-me and has failed to consider who it is actually was. “What kind of agenda?” 

“We think,” says Connor, whispering. Kevin doesn’t step any closer. He can hear him just fine. “I think. I think it wasn’t a werewolf at all.” 

Kevin’s lip wobbles, just a little bit. 

“You’re a vampire,” says Kevin, strangled. “I didn’t get it, before, but I get it now, and it’s horrible and awful and I thought maybe when I came here it would stop --”

“Slow down,” says Connor, and clutches him by the shoulders. Kevin startles. 

“You’re so cold,” he says, but doesn’t move away. He just -- stares. Connor stares back. “You’re so cold.” 

Connor nods at him. Kevin is clearly -- Kevin is clearly being Kevin, right now. Oh God, Connor is clutching the shoulders of a hysterical werewolf. In a bathroom. Alone. As they both skip class. 

“I don’t have blood,” Connor reminds him. Kevin needs reminding of things like that, sometimes. 

“I know,” says Kevin. His eyes keep flitting all over Connor’s face like he’s never seen it before and can’t take it all in. It makes Connor swallow, which makes Kevin drag his gaze over his neck. “You don’t have a heartbeat.” 

Connor should tilt his head down. He should. He didn’t mean to bare his neck to a werewolf, but he did, totally by accident, and what the  _ fuck _ , McKinley. He’s a vampire, and Kevin is -- well, that’s the point, isn’t it? 

“I guess I don’t,” he says. “You do, though. Have a heart. A huge one. You wouldn’t murder somebody.” 

Kevin looks at him for a long time. His lip is wobbling around his stupid teeth. Connor doesn’t look away; just watches him, evenly, as he works through whatever it is that’s rattling around in his skull. 

“You don’t even know me,” says Kevin. “You don’t know anything about me.” 

“No,” he says. “I don’t. But I know werewolves. You’d have to be pretty stupid to be a werewolf and kill a vampire. You’re the immediate suspect. This is either somebody trying to frame werewolves and start a godamned civil war, or it’s somebody who was drunk and stupid and this is a one-off incident.” 

“You don’t have a heartbeat,” says Kevin, and he looks so very far away. “It makes you so quiet, you know. When I’m around you, it’s like -- I don’t know. It’s just weird, is all.”

“What does that have to do with anything --” 

“I’m just saying,” says Kevin, and takes a step closer. “That I can’t smell you or hear your heartbeat. You’re not -- you’re like the  _ opposite _ of a werewolf.” 

“What are you talking about?”

“A werewolf,” says Kevin, with a sigh, like he’s heard this before or said this before and he’s bored of it. “Relies on olfactory senses and hearing. So when we can’t smell and we can’t hear, it’s  _ really _ hard to track you.” 

“Right,” says Connor, struggling to follow. “So you’re saying...?”

“You have the advantage,” says Kevin. “I didn’t even hear you come in. I wouldn’t have left the cubicle otherwise.” 

“So,” says Connor. “What you mean is that it would be hard to track a vampire down in the dark and stab him through the heart with a stake.”

“Exactly,” says Kevin. “You don’t have a heartbeat. It’s so unnerving. I really hate it.” 

“Well, I’m not exactly your biggest fan,” says Connor. He really wishes Kevin wasn’t clearly involved in whatever-this-is. He’d really like it if Kevin could just fade into the background, a niggling annoyance at the lunch table. Not the fucking prime suspect. “I don’t like being around you, either.” 

Kevin takes another step closer. Connor wishes he could move back, but the sink is already digging into his pelvis painfully and what he really should do is just leave. He shouldn’t be letting himself get cornered by a werewolf. The urge to bare his teeth is almost overwhelming. 

“Are you going to help us, or what?” says Connor. 

“What?”

“We’re going to find out who really did this,” says Connor. “And then you can get a clean slate. And then we can go back to ignoring each other. Okay?” 

“Okay,” says Kevin, and lets out one slow, shaky breath. “Okay.” 

“Okay,” says Connor, and swallows down the instinctual urge to bare his teeth at him. To fight him off. Because he’s Kevin. He’s not even close to being a threat. “Go to class, Kevin.” 

“I haven’t been to class in days,” says Kevin, shrugging. “I just haven’t got anywhere else to go.” 

“Oh,” says Connor. “You’re a very odd werewolf.” 

“I don’t really know what I’m doing,” says Kevin, in a rush. “This is all very new to me.”

“What, being a murder suspect?”

Kevin smiles grimly. The flickering light makes him actually look quite frightening. 

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to act,” he says. “I didn’t know vampires really hated werewolves. I didn’t even know centaurs existed until I met Church. I didn’t know what it felt like for a ghost to run straight through you. I didn’t even --” he sounds so strangled. Connor takes pity on him. 

“Kevin,” says Connor, slowly, and clutches his shoulders now he’s within reach. “Where are you from?”

Kevin pries Connor’s fingers off his shirt, one by one, with an unnerving strength. 

“I’ll see you around,” he says, and walks away without looking back once, door slamming on his way out. 

***

Connor doesn’t see Kevin for the rest of the week. He pretends that it’s not bothering him, but it is and he doesn’t quite know why. It feels a lot like guilt. 

“Are you pining?” says Sadaka, floating behind him on the way to Human History. “You look like you’re pining.”

“I am not pining,” he tells Sadaka, elbowing creatures out of the way while she floats through them, serenely. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Your new project,” she says. “You keep looking at his locker forlornly.” 

“I do not,” says Connor, fiercely, hissing because there are werewolves, werewolves everywhere! “It’s just weird, is all.”

He hasn’t told anybody about the conversation in the bathroom. He figures that was a sort of I’m-hysterical-and-you’re-the-only-one-here type of conversation. Connor knows all about keeping secrets. 

“It is strange,” says Sadaka. “I keep hearing rumours about him.” 

“I don’t think they’re true,” Connor says, as they approach the door. They have exactly forty-five seconds before Ms. Kimbay gives them a late mark. “I mean, look at him.” 

“I don’t believe them either,” says Sadaka, one foot through the closed door. “We have to do something.”

“I know,” says Connor, and pushes the door open. “We’ll talk about this later.” 

He nods off at his desk, letting words about succubi roll around in his head. He wonders what Kevin would say if he were here, what story he would tell. History is a lot more boring without Kevin Price, it would seem. He glances over to Kevin’s empty desk with hooded eyes and wonders where somebody like Kevin Price could hide. He’s sort of impossible to miss.

***

Connor finds Kevin in the library the next Monday following the attack. 

“Nice of you to show up,” says Connor, flopping down into the hard, plastic seat next to Kevin. “I give up. Teach me history.” 

Kevin looks like his pen might crack in his palm. 

“I came to the library specifically because I knew you never come here.”

“I have eyes and ears everywhere,” says Connor, and passes him his quiz results. The C+ burns bright red on the paper. “Is Miss Hall glaring at me?”

“Yep,” says Kevin, looking just past Connor’s ear. “She looks like she’s thinking of smothering you with a pillow, actually.”

“I spilled blood over all the science textbooks when I was a junior,” Connor says, waving his hand. “Also apparently I’m disruptive. Which is a lie.”

“You literally  _ just _ disrupted me. I’m trying to catch up on the Alchemy I’ve missed. I’m awful at it.” 

“Because you were born in a barn, you weird pod person,” says Connor, and leans over to look at Kevin’s textbook. He’s scrawled notes all over them. “Will you help me?” 

“I guess,” says Kevin. “Beats sitting alone while everybody stares at me. But you know I suck at human history. I probably have worse grades than you.”

“I know,” says Connor. “If I actually cared about getting the right answers, I’d study with Sadaka. But what’s the point in learning all this crap if it’s not even true.”

“Wait,” says Kevin, and leans forward conspiratorially. “Are you saying you believe me?” 

“Well, yeah,” says Connor. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“You called me crazy three times last week.”

“You can be crazy and still be right,” says Connor. “I mean, what really are the chances that the bizarre weather conditions in District Three in 1991 resulting in a freak and fatal blizzard  _ wasn’t  _ caused by witches?” 

The corner’s of Kevin’s lips quirk upwards. He looks so hopeful. It does something pleasantly unpleasant to Connor’s insides. 

“A whole coven of them,” says Kevin. “They never managed to rebuild properly. Humans drove the witches out.”

“By that, do you mean murder them?”

Kevin shrugs. 

“They started it.” 

“Whose side are you on?”    
  


“I’m not on any sides,” says Kevin. “I’m telling you facts.”

“Huh,” says Connor. “It feels like, kind of dumb now you pointed it out. It’s like reading a kid’s book. Nothing ever goes wrong unless it’s the bad guy’s fault.”

“You believe what you’re told,” Kevin says. “I get that. Trust me.”

Connor watches him for a moment. He wishes he could study Kevin like a textbook. 

“You should be careful. Vampires aren’t exactly werewolves’ biggest fan right now. And if word gets out that you--” 

“-- please be quiet,” says Kevin. “I get it. I’m not an idiot.” 

Connor positively gapes at him. 

“You’re  _ crazy. _ ”

“Yeah,” says Kevin. “Not the same thing.” 

Connor hums. The hard plastic creaks beneath him. Kevin’s breathing is laboured, but that’s nothing new. 

“You act so wise about the world,” says Connor. “But you haven’t experienced, like, anything.” 

“There’s a first time for everything,” Kevin says. “I’ve had ice cream before, but I always wanted to cover mine in sprinkles and syrup and shit. So me and Arnold are going to the park after school to go get ice cream.” 

Connor thinks that’s sort of adorable. Coincidentally, Connor also  _ hates himself.  _

“I’ve never had ice cream before.” 

Kevin looks at him sideways. Connor shrugs at him. 

“Have fun with your ice cream,” says Connor, and it comes out sort of sarcastic even though he actually means it. The bell goes, mercifully saving Connor from saying something horribly embarrassing and revealing like  _ I’ve never had ice cream before.  _ Christ, Connor. “Let me know how it is.”

Kevin offers him a small smile. Connor takes it, smiling back, just a fraction, wondering what Kevin Price’s favourite syrup is going to be. 

  
***

Another vampire turns up dead. So much for a random, one-off incident. 

“Fucking werewolves,” says his dad over breakfast. “I swear, if it turns out it’s one of them, there’ll be hell to pay.” 

Connor chews on his straw until the fractured plastic cuts into his tongue. 

***

Connor calls Kevin. He doesn’t know why he calls Kevin, because he’s never called him before, but in circumstances of threatening messages spelled out in blood on his front lawn, Kevin seems like the obvious choice. 

“Connor?” 

“Kevin,” says Connor, more than a little strangled. “Can you come over?” 

There’s such a long, uncomfortable pause that Connor almost hangs up out of sheer embarrassment. 

“I guess you aren’t asking me to come over to study.”

Connor laughs, vaguely hysterical. 

“Somebody has written  _ you’re _ _ next _ on my front lawn in blood.” 

Kevin makes an inhuman noise, and hangs up the phone. Connor texts him his address and takes one, two pictures before going inside to locate the hose. 

He hears Kevin swear when he’s in the hallway, and flings the door back to look at him. He’s stood in his driveway, fists clenched at his sides. 

“You weren’t kidding.”

“Nope,” says Connor, and sags against the door frame. “Not even a little bit.” 

“Fuck,” says Kevin, and starts circling the lawn. Connor watches him, arms folded. His hair is all rumpled and he looks like he might have actually run here, the weirdo. 

“I know,” says Connor. “My parents are out of district.” 

“So they waited,” says Kevin, glancing up at Connor for one, two seconds. “They’ve been watching you.” 

“Kevin,” says Connor, trying to act as blasé as he can but failing quite miserably. “Who’s they?” 

Kevin walks up to the steps and leans on the railing, squinting up at him. 

“You know who they are,” he says. “We’ve been studying history together for months.” 

“Humans,” says Connor, as quietly as he can. Kevin nods. “You’re from District Two.” 

How.  _ How _ is he from District Two? How is he not dead? 

“They followed me,” says Kevin, miserably. “And now they’re threatening my friends.” 

“We’re not friends,” says Connor, instinctively. “Allies, maybe.” 

“So they’re threatening my  _ allies _ ,” says Kevin. “Big deal.” 

Connor watches Kevin watch him, warily. He’s from District Two. He’s Kevin, the anxiety-riddled almost feral werewolf with a heart of gold. He’s both of these things and he’s alive. 

“How did you escape?” says Connor, because he’s sort of starting to piece some things together, here. “How did you even get here?” 

Kevin’s eyes snap up to his, and he’s never looked so serious before. It’s unnerving. Like he’s suddenly turned to stone.

“I ran,” he says, as if it’s as simple as that. “That’s all.”

“I don’t need super senses to know that you’re lying.”

“It’s none of your business,” Kevin snaps. 

“It is my business,” says Connor. “Because if I die because of you I’m going to be really, really pissed off. I’ll come back as a ghost just to haunt you and whisper _ I was right _ in your ear every time you’re about to fall asleep.”

“I don’t sleep,” says Kevin, his eyes glowing like faint embers. “I’ll help you clean this up. Come on.”

They use the hose and a couple of buckets and get the worst of it to wash into the drain, but now the whole garden is tinged a faint pink. Kevin gets paler and paler the more buckets they have to use. It takes them the better part of half an hour of blessed silence before Connor calls it quits and collapses onto the porch steps. Kevin follows, slowly, sits down next to him, a respectable distance away. 

“Why’d you call me?” 

“I thought maybe you’d be good in a crisis.”

Kevin snorts, and Connor offers him a wry smile. 

“They want me to go back with them,” says Kevin. “That’s what this is. I don’t think they quite know what they’re doing yet, but that’s what they want.” 

“Why?” 

“I’m useful,” says Kevin. He sounds very far away, but he’s looking right at him. “And I’m one of them.” 

Connor gapes at him. What does that even  _ mean _ . 

“What?” 

Kevin is illuminated by the porch lights against an inky-black canvas. The moon is particularly large and bright, and Kevin turns to look at it. 

“I should go back with them.” 

Connor reaches out and grabs Kevin’s forearm before he’s even realised he’s done it, as if he was about to run off right that second. Kevin stares at his hand, then back up at Connor. He doesn’t let go. If anything, he grips harder. 

“No.” 

“You don’t know what humans are capable of.”

“No, I don’t,” says Connor, and Kevin’s skin is burning his fingertips. “But you do. And that’s exactly why you’re not leaving.” 

“That sounds an awful lot like you care.”

Connor bares his fangs, but his heart isn’t in it. 

“Haha, I get it, Connor has a cold dead heart,” he says, scowling as hard as he can. “Just because you’re annoying doesn’t mean I want you to walk right back into the arms of your -- what? Captors? Who exactly are they?” 

“Uh,” says Kevin, and Connor so wishes he didn’t just watch him swallow. “My pack, I guess.” 

Connor laughs, because he doesn’t know what else to do. Kevin is crazy. Like, lock him up and throw away the key kind of crazy. But Connor is still here, isn’t he? He’s still listening to him. He still believes every word that comes out of that mouth. 

“You know how I can’t hear your heartbeat?”

“Yeah,” says Connor. “And you can’t smell me either.” 

“Right,” says Kevin. “I grew up around all these humans. And their heartbeats are crazy loud and they all smell like bags of blood. And then I met you.” 

Kevin still isn’t looking at him, but Connor doesn’t mind that. It means Connor can watch how the moonlight clashes with the golden glow of his eyes in peace. 

“I just don’t get you. At all. I can’t hear you and I can’t smell you.”

“I don’t get you either,” says Connor. “I’m not sure if you’re crazy or I’m crazy for believing you.” 

Connor hums to himself, and leans back on his palms. It’s too cloudy for stars in the sky tonight. Kevin is probably tired, but he’s still sat here like he’s got nowhere to be. Connor dares to shift a little closer, because Kevin is so warm and it’s radiating around him like an aura. 

“Are you hungry?” 

Kevin turns to him and blinks, all the gold replaced by browns. 

“Uh,” he says. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Cool,” says Connor. “Do you wanna go get pizza?” 

Kevin stares at him like he’s grown two heads. Connor shrugs at him.

“Do you have anywhere else you need to be? Because apparently there are humans who want me dead and I don’t feel like being home alone.” 

“You want to go get pizza. With me.” 

“Yes?” 

“Why are you acting like I’m the one being weird? You don’t like me and you can’t eat pizza.” 

“Shut up,” says Connor, standing up. He pulls Kevin up by his shirt and pulls him to his car by the wrist. “You’re being ridiculous.” 

“What —”

Connor shuts him up with a glare. He opens the car door for him like a true gentleman, but then he slams it shut and sort of ruins it. 

The car ride is awkward at best. Kevin keeps fidgeting and looking out of the window and wincing when cars overtake them. Connor puts on the radio, but that doesn’t seem to help much. Maybe he gets travel sick. Connor wouldn’t know. Connor knows barely anything about him, except for the fact that he’s both crazy and from District Two. 

“Have you ever eaten pizza before?” 

“Hm?” says Kevin, dragging his gaze away from the window. “Oh, no. No I haven’t.”

“Okay,” says Connor. “Well, Kevin Price, lone werewolf runaway from District Two, I’m going to buy you a pizza with everything on it.” 

“Don’t tell anyone,” says Kevin. “Where I’m from. I lied to Arnold.” 

“Okay,” says Connor, because he knows a thing or two about lying. “I wouldn’t anyway. I believe you, obviously, but I don’t think many people will. And even if they do, you’ll be ostracised.” 

“I know,” says Kevin. 

Connor wants to ask why Kevin told  _ him,  _ of all people, but he already knows the answer. Kevin doesn’t care what Connor thinks of him. 

They arrive at the pizza place, one of his group of losers favourite hangouts. They do a great bloodshake. Kevin looks absolutely bewildered by the neon lights flashing out in the darkness. He really does look like a nervous baby deer. 

Connor shoves him through the door, and Kevin winces at the sound of the bell. How loud does that ring in Kevin’s ears? Connor wants to be a werewolf, just for a day. Just to see what all the fuss is about. These aren’t the kind of things he’s supposed to think, though, so he thinks about it even more out of spite. 

The lights are bright. There aren’t many people here, but maybe that makes it worse. Maybe a cacophony of heartbeats is preferable, like being at a loud party where there’s so much conversation and noise that you can’t focus on just one. Like when you’re in the library, and the scratching on a pen is so loud in your ears that you can’t concentrate. 

Connor slides into a booth. Kevin’s ratty shoes squeak on the linoleum floor, and the seats have made a vague attempt of having cushions but Connor can literally feel the bones in his ass as he sits down. Kevin looks adorably lost and confused. 

“Sit  _ down, _ ” Connor says, and gestures to the seat opposite him. “Act like a normal person for like, half an hour. For me.” 

“I can try,” says Kevin. “It smells nice.”

It does smell nice. It’s such a shame Connor can’t eat any of it. He’d like to eat something warm, and comforting. Something he could share. Not something necessary to survival. 

The waitress comes over and Connor orders for him. He looks like the kind of person who’s too nervous to order, but maybe it’s just the whole ‘I barely know what a pizza even is’ thing. They don’t talk much until the pizza arrives, just sort of awkwardly watching each other in favour of actually talking. 

Connor chews on his straw and watches Kevin warily. Kevin is staring at his pizza like it’s offended him and refuses to apologise. 

“It won’t kill you,” says Connor, eventually. “Just try it. Everybody likes pizza.” 

Kevin picks up a piece, and looks at Connor as he takes a hearty bite, the weirdo. Connor barely pretends he’s not looking right back at him. 

“Oh, it’s nice,” says Kevin, and takes another bite. “You can’t eat this at all?”

“Nope,” says Connor, slurping on his shake. “Go to town.” 

“Vampires are weird,” says Kevin, trying to untangle his fingers from strings of cheese. “What else can you do?” 

“Drinking blood isn’t some kind of superpower,” says Connor. The lights in here are very unflattering and Kevin has tomato sauce around his mouth and his leg is bouncing, hitting the underside of the table. “It’s more of a hindrance than anything. I wish I could eat pizza too, you know?” 

“Do you know any other vampires?” 

“Not really,” says Connor. “There aren’t that many of us. And they all go to night school, anyway.” 

“Why do you go to day school?” 

“So many questions,” says Connor, and kicks him under the table. Kevin just raises his eyebrows at him. “A few reasons. Mostly my parent’s jobs. They have to work in the day.” 

“Huh,” says Kevin. “No wonder your grades suck.”

Connor kicks him again. Kevin grins around a mouthful of pizza. 

“You can hardly talk,” says Connor. “Did you even go to school?”

“Homeschooled,” says Kevin. He has grease on his chin and he’s already demolished two slices. Connor can’t stop staring. It’s like watching a very hungry car crash. “Sort of.”

“By humans.”

“Yup,” says Kevin. He licks his fingers and Connor doesn’t even bother trying not to watch the movement. Kevin doesn’t notice these things anyway. “They can read and write too, you know.” 

Connor slurps as loudly as he can because he knows exactly how much that’s going to irritate Kevin’s sensitive ears. 

“Can I ask you a question?”

“That’s already a question,” says Connor. “But sure. I’ll bite.”

Kevin gives him a look. Connor grins at him. He can’t help it. 

“Why do you hate werewolves so much?”

“I don’t,” says Connor, with what he hopes is a nonchalant shrug. “I don’t hate werewolves.”

“Oh,” says Kevin. “So you just hate me.” 

“Look,” says Connor. “Okay. So I had this crush like, my entire life. And he was a werewolf.” 

“Okay,” says Kevin, and resumes eating as much pizza as inhumanly possible. It’s kind of impressive. “So what happened?” 

“Well, everybody knew about it,” Connor says, around his chewed up straw. He’s going to have to ask for another one. “Like, everybody. Except my parents, because he was my secret werewolf best friend my whole life and as far as they were concerned I was werewolf-avoidant and straight.”

“Did he know about it?”

“Yeah,” says Connor. “I just sort of assumed we were not-talking-about-it only then we were sixteen and he kissed me and we still weren’t talking about it but now we weren’t talking about it with kissing. Like, a lot of kissing.” 

Kevin is watching him with such wide eyes. This must all seem so trivial to him. Kevin is from District Two and grew up with humans. He’s a werewolf runaway, and here Connor is complaining about Steve of all people. 

“And then you got caught giving him a blowjob.”

Kevin holds his hands up in defeat when Connor gives him his best glare. 

“Yes, that happened. And it was all over the news, and my parents kicked me out for a bit so I had to crash at Sadaka’s. And then we just weren’t talking or kissing at all and I thought it was because he didn’t want to get me in any more trouble, right? But then one day I saw him and Georgina Harris making out in the hallway. It’d only been a few weeks.” 

“That sucks,” says Kevin, and he sounds like he means it despite looking like he has no idea what Connor is talking about. “He sounds like a jerk.”

“Even worse than you,” says Connor, with a grim smile. “I think he just got off on how much I liked him. I was under the impression he liked me too, but you know. That was stupid. Who would?”

“Well,” says Kevin. “I don’t know a lot about this stuff, but I think that if somebody is kissing you, you can assume they like you.” 

“I guess,” says Connor. “He made me feel special. Then he just took that from me.” 

“I take it we’re talking about Steve Blade.”

“Yeah,” says Connor. “Yeah, we’re talking about Steve Blade.” 

“He’s not even cute,” Kevin shrugs at him. “You deserve somebody who, like. I don’t know. Wouldn’t mind it if you got caught mid blowjob because he wants to show off like, hey, yeah, this is humiliating but have you  _ seen _ him?” 

Connor stares. Kevin picks at his last slice, looking everywhere that isn’t Connor. 

“Um,” says Connor. 

“For the record,” says Kevin. “I think you’re pretty special.” 

Connor feels an unbearable urge to bolt out of the door so he doesn’t have to deal with this. Whose idea was it to go get midnight pizza anyway? 

“I don’t really want to die,” says Connor. “And I don’t want you to go back to District Two, either.”

“So what do we do?”

“We figure it out,” says Connor, with a conviction he absolutely does not feel. “And then we fix it.”

“How?”

Connor looks at him. Kevin looks back, and he wishes he knew exactly what Kevin sees. He’ll never know. He’s only a vampire. Vampires are sort of useless. Vampires don’t have any super senses, they don’t have any powers. They can’t even turn anybody here. There are no humans. Vampires just cause trouble and drink a lot of blood. There’s nothing he can do, other than wrangle everybody together and wait for a miracle, but he’s not just going to stand around here and wait for a stake to the heart.

“I think,” says Connor. “We’re going to need to call in some friends.”

***

It turns out calling his friends to all meet together in one place at a time whilst Connor’s parents aren’t here turns into some kind of house party. It takes eight days of dodging around football practice and Sadaka’s two dates with two different boys and Church’s uncle coming to visit from Eight, but they end up together on a Friday night in Connor’s back garden. Asmeret has a fire going because it’s  _ so damn cold.  _ Connor is hiding under three blankets, running through the facts in his head: Kevin is from District Two. Kevin lived with humans. Kevin has run away from humans and ended up Nine. They followed him, they’re killing vampires, they’ve threatened him. All of those things are clear in his brain. It’s the  _ why  _ part that’s sort of beyond him right now. He sort of thought vodka might help him put the pieces together. He furrows his brow and glares at Kevin for not giving him all the answers. 

“When’s your birthday?” 

Connor blinks at Kevin. He looks very hazy, blurred at the edges, fading into a inky backdrop. Connor curls further into the hanging chair on the porch. Kevin’s shoes are still on, but Connor is a little too out of it to tell him off. 

“In a couple of weeks,” he says. “Why?” 

“For your early birthday, Connor McKinley, you’re going to get me drunk for the first time ever.” 

“Oh my God,” says Connor, staring at Kevin in what must look like wonder but is actually just (somewhat) fond exasperation. “I take back everything mean I ever said about you.” 

“Really?”

“No,” says Connor, and pokes his nose. Kevin goes cross eyed, then glares, which is a very interesting combination of facial expressions to have at once. “You’re still annoying. And an idiot. Just an annoying idiot who had a good idea.”

Kevin looks inordinately pleased with himself. 

“I’m not drinking it with blood, though,” says Kevin, and stands up to go get mixer. “Because that’s absolutely vile, by the way.”

Connor watches him with lidded eyes, struggling to keep them open. The chair swings violently with Kevin’s movement and it makes Connor feel incredibly nauseous. 

It takes a minute before Connor realises that Kevin isn’t actually coming back. He’s sat down cross legged on the grass, and Connor is missing Kevin Price’s first ever apple flavoured vodka shot. He sort of half walks, half crawls over and flops down pathetically next to him, Sadaka hovering on the other side of him. She puts her arm through his shoulders and whispers something  _ incredibly  _ lewd about what kind of drunk Kevin might be in his ear that Kevin definitely, definitely heard. He swipes at her and almost topples over when his arm runs straight through her torso. 

“So,” says Connor, when they’re all settled around Asmeret’s fire. “First of all, thank you for hosting my pity party. Second of all, I really don’t want to die. Thoughts?” 

“You’re not going to die,” says Kevin. “Stop being so dramatic.” 

“ _ I’m  _ dramatic? Look who’s talking!” 

“ _ You’re  _ the one with the death threat written in  _ blood _ !” 

“Oh my god, do you two ever shut up?” says Michaels. Connor glares at him. “Let me see the picture again.” 

“There’s nothing out of the ordinary,” says Connor, handing over his phone. “Not that the whole  _ we’re going to murder you while you sleep  _ thing is a usual occurrence for me.” 

“You probably won’t be asleep,” says Kevin, reassuringly. Connor swats off the condescending hand on his shoulder. “You want to talk about being dramatic. These guys are the real deal.” 

“And they’re humans?” says Church. “You’re sure?”

“Positive,” says Kevin. He doesn’t elaborate, which is very annoying, because now Connor is the one who has to come up with some kind of reason they know that without actually admitting exactly why they know that. This whole endeavour would be a lot easier if everybody knew everything. Stupid Kevin and his stupid tragic life story. 

“It’s not werewolves,” says Connor. “There’s no point in a werewolf picking on vampires. What are we supposed to do, glare at them to death? Believe me, I’ve tried.”

He shoots one at Kevin, over his shoulder, for good measure. Kevin sticks his tongue out in retaliation. 

“It’s definitely somebody trying to frame werewolves, though,” says Asmeret, with her thinking face on. She never usually looks like that unless she’s cramming for a test or thinking of the best insult to throw Connor’s way. “Frame Kevin, specifically?” 

“Right,” says Sadaka. “Why?” 

Kevin shrugs. 

“Probably nothing personal,” says Connor. “He’s just new in town. Makes a good scapegoat.” 

“Where did the humans come from? It’s a long way to go.”

“Two,” says Kevin, seemingly before he thinks about it. “It’s just a theory,” he shrugs, like it’s no big thing. 

“I think it’s you they’re after, though,” says Church, nodding at Connor. “Right? Killing the ambassador’s son --”

“Yup,” says Connor, spreading his hands out in a  _ ta-da!  _ motion. “They want a war, they’ll get a war. And then me and this idiot over here are fucked.” 

“I vote for avoiding that,” says Sadaka, holding up her hand. “So what do we do?” 

“We could figure out where they’re hiding,” Asmeret suggests. “Take them down before they expect it.” 

“They’ll be in the spaces between here and Eight,” says Kevin. “They’re not stupid enough to hang out in a town filled with creatures with magical freakin’ powers who are shit scared of humans.” 

“Oh,” says Asmeret. “So, that’s out.”

“We just wait for them to strike again?” 

“I suppose,” says Connor. “But ‘strike again’ probably means, again, ‘murder me in my sleep’.” 

“You’re not going to be murdered in your sleep,” says Kevin, and Connor can  _ hear  _ his eyes rolling back into his head. “I told you. You’ll be wide awake, probably after being lured into some elaborate trap or other.”

“Oh, fantastic news,” says Connor, and slumps back down on the grass. His head makes an awful  _ thunk  _ when it collides with the ground. “So surveillance on me while my parents aren’t here, I guess. Before we figure something out. Should I make a rota? You won’t have to miss practice, I’ll come along as usual, and --”

“-- shut up,” says Kevin, clapping one hand on his shoulder. “I want more vodka.” 

“That’s the spirit,” says Michaels, handing over the bottle. Connor measures it out for him, because he’s nice like that. “We’ll figure it out. But it’s a Friday night, it’s senior year, and we’re about to get the weird new kid drunk for the first time ever.” 

Kevin raises his eyebrows at Connor over his cup. Connor raises his right back. He chugs back the majority of the drink, and Connor knows he’s trying to look impressive but it becomes very obvious as soon as he moves the cup away that he downed it because he can’t stand the taste, if the grimace on his face is anything to go by. He looks like he’s sucked on a lemon, and it  _ should not  _ be a good look on  _ anyone  _ but he’s Kevin so, yeah, he still looks good. It’s sort of cute, how hard he tries to fit in. 

“Have you ever seen a drunk centaur before?” Connor asks Kevin. “He’s a pretty funny drunk. Watch this. Hey, Church? What are the stars telling you about my imminent demise?” 

Church blinks down at him, slowly, before turning his gaze to the sky. 

“Oh,” says Church, squinting. “The stars have doubled,” and then he starts laughing, which is half braying, which turns into a hiccup that leaves Kevin laughing. It’s an abrasive sound, but Connor is an abrasive person, so he doesn’t really mind that. Not when there’s vodka coursing through his empty veins. 

“Sadaka,” says Kevin. “You can’t get drunk, can you?” 

“Sure I can,” says Sadaka, and floats right through Church. He makes no movement to suggest he even felt it at all. “Drunk by osmosis. Totally works.”

“Magic is so cool,” says Kevin. “I wish I was magic. What’s it like?” 

“Pretty neat,” says Asmeret. “Look at this,” and then she sets her hands on fire. 

Kevin’s eyes are wide and surprised, Asmeret’s fire highlighting the gold flecks in his irises. 

“ _ Sweet,”  _ says Kevin, silently holding out his cup for Connor to fill again. “What can you do?” 

Michaels raises the moisture out of the ground below him, drying the grass into straw. It looks a little like Sadaka when she gets excited, whirling around his hands, before he uses it to douse Asmeret’s fire. 

“It’s all about the elements,” says Michaels, causing the ground to shake ever so slightly to prove a point. “We can’t even really help it. One time when I was a toddler I caused a whole earthquake to happen because my mom took away my crayons.” 

“I set my bed on fire when I had a nightmare,” Asmeret says. “It happens. School helps us control it.” 

“That’s so cool,” says Kevin. “I used to transform by accident all the time when I was younger.” 

An uneasy quiet falls upon them. Connor opens, closes his mouth.  _ That’s  _ a surprise, which is surprising all in itself, because Connor thought he was immune to Kevin’s strangeness by now. It makes sense, that Kevin might be feral sometimes. He clearly has a control problem. Connor thinks he should probably care more, but he doesn’t, and that’s a little worrying, yes, but it’s to worry about  _ later.  _ Connor has more than enough to worry about right now. 

“Oh,” says Kevin, and Connor decides to take pity on him yet again. He chews on his straw and wishes his head wasn’t so foggy. It’d be a lot easier to keep Kevin’s secrets if he was in control of his words. 

“I bit a rabbit,” says Connor. “When I was like, three years old. This is why humans don’t like us.”

“Humans aren’t much better,” says Kevin. “They pull wings off of insects when they’re little.” 

“You’re so fucking weird,” says Asmeret, patting Kevin on the head. “I’m not going to ask how you know that because you seem to know a lot of bizarre things.” 

Connor is glad his friends are probably so drunk they’ll put two and two together and make  _ North Nine teaches weird shit, huh?  _

The conversation lulls after a while, and the gang disperses. Church passes out, laying on his side on the lawn, and after that Michaels and Asmeret go home and Sadaka’s mom calls Connor to tell him to tell to Sadaka that she has to get home this  _ second  _ because it’s past curfew, which is ridiculous because what could really happen to her considering she’s already dead, but parents worry. Well, most parents worry. Connor’s parents leave him home alone for weeks at a time, but he  _ is  _ almost eighteen and they  _ did  _ disown him once upon a time, and anyway Connor doesn’t exactly like them or anything, so he doesn’t mind. It means he can lay down on the lawn with his hot frenemy and watch his glazed, golden eyes as they watch him back. Doesn’t matter how you feel about him, he’s lovely to look at. Kevin Price, Connor feels, was supposed to be seen and not heard. 

“Makes sense,” says Connor, forlornly, as his drunken stupor begins to sour. “I have the worst luck. This just in: boring gay vampire is cursed by ugliness and death threats.” 

“Why do you keep saying that?” says Kevin, his nose wrinkled and his face screwed up in an over-exaggerated fashion. “That you’re ugly.” 

“Because it’s true?”

“How do you know?” says Kevin, propping himself up by his elbow. “You don’t have a reflection. How do you know what you look like?” 

Connor opens, closes his mouth again. 

“I get people to draw pictures.” 

“Well, that’s no good,” says Kevin, with far too much authority for somebody who grew up in a bubble. “That’s a dumb idea.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” says Kevin. “Pictures are subjective, right? They’re how the person drawing sees you.”

Connor squints up at him. Kevin Price, with his stupid perfect face. 

“And what do you see?” 

“Somebody not ugly,” says Kevin, which is incredibly sweet but he sort of ruins it by his elbow collapsing underneath him. Connor starts laughing and finds it incredibly hard to stop.

“You’re cute,” says Connor, and leans over to peer down into Kevin’s wincing frown from the wrong angle. His eyebrows look very odd upside-down. “Crazy, though. We established this.” 

“Right,” says Kevin, blowing the little floppy curl on his forehead back. “But last time I checked, my eyes were working just fine.” 

“My  _ nose, _ ” Connor laments. 

“Gives you character,” says Kevin, grinning. His fangs look so stupid. “Do I actually have to give you a pep talk about your self esteem right now?” 

“ _ No, _ ” Connor glares, and helps Kevin back upright. They both end up cross-legged, facing each other, Connor leaning back on his palms. Kevin fidgets by pulling apart the straw on the patch of grass Michaels ruined. “No, we never need to have that talk.” 

“Okay,” Kevin shrugs. “Because a lot of people like you enough to keep you alive, so you’d better not start telling yourself we’re better off without you or some shit like that.”

“I’m sorry,” says Connor, poking Kevin in the cheek. The world is a little topsy turvy. The horizon seems to be wobbling ever so slightly. “ _ You’re _ the flight risk.” 

“I don’t belong here,” says Kevin. “You know that.” 

“Yes, you do,” says Connor, matter of factly. “I want you to stay.”

Connor wishes he could punch himself in the mouth. 

“You said it yourself,” Kevin insists. “They want to kill you because of me.”

“ _ No, _ ” says Connor. “They want to kill me because I’m a vampire who sucked a werewolf’s dick, got disowned by his powerful parents who can’t stand werewolves and would make a fantastic political statement. Nothing to do with you.” 

“I brought them here,” says Kevin. 

“So?” says Connor.    
  


Kevin doesn’t seem to have an answer. 

***

Connor watches Kevin drink three cups of coffee in succession before calling him out on it. 

“When you said you haven’t been sleeping,” Connor starts, but Kevin shuts him up with a glare. 

“The War of Two and Six, 1857. Go.” 

“Uhm,” says Connor. “Prince Alzareth wanted to take over Six because of their natural resources. But it turns out witches were mostly responsible for their fruitful harvests, so they tried to go undercover and find out the witches’ secrets. But the covens found out and started a territory war.” 

“Good,” says Kevin. “And that’s actually true.” 

“Glad to know it’s not all gibberish,” says Connor. “Is somebody staring at me? It feels like somebody is staring at me.” 

Kevin’s eyes dart around the room, before hesitating. He takes Connor’s notebook and scrawls  _ STEVE BLADE,  _ and then draws Connor’s frowny face, complete with fangs. Connor sticks his tongue out at him. 

_ Ugh,  _ Connor writes back. Then he draws Kevin with little wolf ears and labels it  _ jackass.  _ Kevin scowls at him. He labels the Connor stick figure  _ MEAN JERK,  _ then scrawls an addendum:  _ UNIMPRESSIVE FANGS, WEIRD NOSE. 4/10. _

Connor actually laughs out loud. 

_ NOW HE LOOKS MAD,  _ Kevin writes, barely even remotely legible as he squeezes the letters round the corner.  _ WANNA LEAVE?  _

Connor frowns, and shakes his head. He refuses to give in to temptation and bolt out the door, because then Steve has won, the big jerk. Connor is perfectly entitled to sit in a public space as a paying customer with his very hot frenemy and/or study buddy. 

“What caused the fall of the Monster Union in District Two?” 

Kevin gives him a blank look that makes him feel itchy. His eyes are heavy and they don’t look away. Why does Kevin never look away? 

“Humans killed them all.” 

“Okay,” says Connor, as slowly and as warily as he can, hyper-aware of how Steve is probably listening in to every word of this conversation. “What will get me a passing grade?”

“Uhm,” says Kevin, consulting his textbook. “Breakdown due to political disputes within the party over territory boundaries.”

“Who makes this shit up?” 

“People like your parents,” says Kevin. “You said it yourself. Nobody leaves Nine, nobody comes to Nine.” 

_ WE’LL TALK MORE LATER,  _ Kevin scratches onto a new sheet of paper.  _ NOT FIT FOR CURRENT COMPANY.  _

_ Fucking werewolves,  _ Connor writes back, just to watch Kevin’s wide eyes melt into a narrow frown. 

“Except for you.” 

“I am pretty exceptional,” says Kevin, and grins. 

_ HE LOOKS LIKE HE’S ABOUT TO POP  _

Connor rolls his eyes, and turns to look at Steve, who, yep, staring right at them. Connor gives him the finger, and turns back to Kevin with a bright smile. 

“Where were we?” 

_ DO YOU WANT TO PRETEND WE’RE DATING  _

_ no you freak  _

“I don’t remember,” says Kevin. “History is boring.” 

“You’re not wrong. Do you want some pie?”

“What?” Kevin says, blinking at him. 

“Pie,” says Connor. “My treat.”

“But you can’t eat pie.”

“I know? I’m buying you a slice. Cherry or Pumpkin?” 

Kevin looks at him, aghast. Connor wonders what part of ‘thanks for helping me study, here’s a slice of pie’ Kevin is so bewildered by. It takes him a second to realise that Kevin probably has no idea if he prefers cherry or pumpkin pies, and the fact that Steve Blade is here listening in to every word of their conversation means that they can’t talk about certain things. Certain things like how and why it came to be that Kevin doesn’t know if he likes cherry or pumpkin pie.

“Pumpkin,” Connor decides for him. “Don’t get into trouble.” 

He hops off his chair and wanders over to the counter. He picks the biggest, most obnoxious slice of pie, and asks for whipped cream in a separate container just in case Kevin doesn’t like whipped cream. The waitress gives him a significant look and jerks her head over to Kevin. He shrugs, because it  _ is  _ very flattering that she thinks Connor could be on a date with somebody who looks like Kevin, even if he is mostly insufferable. 

She gives him two spoons. Connor decides not to point out he can’t actually eat the pie. Kevin probably doesn’t even know what two spoons  _ means.  _

Steve does, though. 

“Bon apetit,” says Connor, sliding back into the booth. “Try it. Also here’s some whipped cream, I don’t know if you like whipped cream.” 

Kevin gives Connor an indecipherable look. Connor grins back in what he hopes is an impish fashion. He pokes it, before taking a bite. He pulls a horrified face, and swallows it with a grimace. 

“Okay,” says Connor. “Let’s try cherry.” 

Kevin doesn’t like cherry pie, either. Or blueberry. Not even apple!

The waitress is giving them both a side eye glare, so Connor decides to give up on the pie-eating experiment. Kevin drinks an entire cup of coffee in one go, to ‘wash the taste’ out, apparently. Connor has had caffeine spiked blood before, and it’s not the kind of taste Connor would expect somebody to actually prefer over sweet pie. Kevin is so weird. Maybe next time they’ll try savoury. 

“It’s the texture,” says Kevin, frowning. “Can we go get pizza? Pizza is much better than pie.” 

“ _ Technically,  _ a pizza is a pie. Pizza pie!” 

“I like the cheese,” Kevin says. “And the pizza place is nice.” 

“Sure,” says Connor, because he has nothing better to do. “Fuck history, though. Midnight pizza is a sacred tradition.” 

“We’ve only gotten pizza one time?”

“It was a bonding experience,” says Connor, airily. “So let’s make it a tradition, why not.” 

Kevin looks at him evenly. Connor doesn’t know why, so he looks evenly back. 

“Sure,” says Kevin, hopping off his seat, holding out a hand to Connor. “Let’s make it a tradition.”

**Author's Note:**

> tbc! this was broken into two halves for ease of reading; the final half will be posted in the next few days!


End file.
